Friends
by withthewaves
Summary: friends should sleep in other beds, and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do. i know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you.
1. friends should sleep in other beds

i'm baaaackk

and with a new ship!

i love reggsy so hard it's kinda disgusting

anyway, this ship is eating me up and i'm pretty sure that if i don't write this story, i'll explode into bits, bc really, it's bURSTING out of me ugh

i drew inspiration from the song "friends" by ed sheeran because i love ed sheeran and i love me some reggsy so wHY THE HELL NOT

* * *

i.

 _friends should sleep in other beds_

She never thought much of it, really. It was just a one-time thing they had. Or that was what she would call it. They were staying in a rundown motel in Las Vegas for a mission that includes tracking down a big casino bastard and his goons when it first happened. With the post-assignment high running in their veins, the two settled down on the couch and decided to release some stress over beer and a cheap slasher movie. Tentative touches were exchanged, some lips tested uncharted waters, curiosity fueled the fire, and the rest was history.

It wasn't romantic, or even careful, to say the least. The way his hips bucked into hers was wanting and needy. He looked nothing like he usually does when he took her in fully, and devoured her like there was no tomorrow. It was blazing fire that filled her senses. Even though he tenderly pressed his mouth against her when they finished, she convinces herself that it was too long since she had a nice one and that he simply needed company too. Even though he held her body close under the covers through the whole night, she insists that it was the tiredness that made him sappy and corny. And even though she heard him mumble her name and the word 'love' in his sleep, she blames the alcohol for the fleeting butterflies in her stomach.

She'd be lying if she said that she didn't have a good time, because she did. But that was all it was. Good sex between two friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

Until it wasn't.

Until she looked back at it, several days later, and realized that it meant something to her. And she didn't know whether it did count for anything on his part.

That's what scared her.

She purposely avoided him after the incident. She knew it was rude, but that didn't stop her from making minimal contact with him. She quietly thanked Merlin for giving her separate operations because honestly, she can't face him. Not with dangerously interesting possibilities running in her mind, anyway.

She dreamed about calling him hers. _Not a good idea._

Because it would ruin them.

If they fall out, it would ruin everything they had. The bond, the memories, the secrets. And she could never afford that. She never could survive without having him in her life. She breaks sluggishly on the inside, shedding tears at the 'what ifs'. So she continued distancing herself away from the heartbreak.

But one day, her luck runs out and he finds her alone in the corner of the staircase, near the training room where they first met, holding a lighted cigarette in one hand and a lighter on the other. He joins her in this position and she forces every muscle in her body to move, but she's stuck frozen in her spot. She almost wants to squeeze the smoke on his rough hands just to give him the feeling of pain she's been in, but she resolves not to.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks in his usual casual tone, which sounds so cruelly mocking in her ear. She doesn't know why she does but she dumbly nods her head in response. He proceeds to ramble on about the normal things. He tells her about his mom and how he wished that he could just take her and Daisy to a safe place away from that monster Dean. He tells her about his escapades in his later missions and she manages to lightly chuckle at some moments of his wild stories.

She listens and she listens until her eyes wander to his eyes, his jaw, his nose until there's nothing else she sees but him. He consumes her whole being that it makes her fly for a second and then it's a sharp bolt to her chest, making her fall down helplessly on the cold ground when she realizes that they could never be. He notices her flinch but she quickly laughs through the pain and brushes if off. He carries on with his story, oblivious to war raging within her. _Fuck this._ She roughly pushes back the tears and she keeps faking her best smile so for now, he won't see.

* * *

this will be a four-part story just so you know

i'm not sure whether i will be updating this fast but it's a short one so hopefully i'll finish this in two months time

and i'm also working on a reggsy one-shot and i still don't know when i'll publish it but yeah i'm on it


	2. friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

put the pitchforks down i know i am the worst updater but hey in my defense this one's longer so here's the next one

* * *

ii.

 _friends shouldn't kiss me like you do_

She was fine.

No, really, she was.

Okay, she wasn't fine _fine,_ but she was fine to hang out again with him without feeling the extreme need to grab his pretty face and smash it against hers lips senselessly. And that was a big improvement compared to her lovesick self in the last few weeks. He acted as if it never happened and she figured she should take his lead and do the same. It's hard, pretending that there wasn't a cloud of awkwardness surrounding the both of them, but she supposes that awkwardness is better than not having him at all.

She convinces herself that it's for the better. While she's drinking coffee in the morning, when she's driving through the streets, after she steps out the bathroom; pretty much all the time. It's routine to get up and repeat the same old thought over and over again. She thinks that maybe, if she say it enough, she'll drown in it. She'll say it enough until she stops breathing. That's what it feels like anyway when she tries to stop what she's feeling.

* * *

"Why can't I move on from this bastard, Stel? He's obviously no good." She exclaims to her pet (the poodle looked like a Stella in her head and no one is stopping her from naming it Stella, damn it), while pointing to her and her best friend, overflowing with drunkenness. It's old; the photograph. It's been in her drawer for some time now, and the way they tenderly find each other in the picture taunts her so she's never had the guts to pull it out of the cabinet. The dog barks in confusion and wiggles out of her arms. She should really start making mental notes that dogs can't talk. Or you know, understand her pitiful romantic lamentations. She shakes her head and laughs bitterly in her seat. "I know you're tired of my shit, alright."

* * *

She focuses on the job instead. She gets in earlier than needed and leaves later than needed. Jumps higher, runs faster, shoots sharper, and does it better. Be it paperwork, field training, and the occasional honeypots, she gives it her all. It's a good way to get her mind off things and the praise she gets, she resolves, is a nice distraction too. It makes her forget about the Eggsy stuff for a while.

That is until the world becomes not much for saving for a couple of weeks, and the agency decides that it's time for her to get some "me" time. She was uncertain to head for vacation for a bit because she didn't want to be called in when she's relaxing her ass off, and let's be real, there's definitely no shortage of psychos and criminals that needs to be jailed, ever. But Merlin reassures her, quite forcefully, if she may add, and insists that he will pack her bags himself if she doesn't quit 'fucking on about it'. Without the fear of her being removed from the service, she eventually gives in. Besides, maybe she can find another fellow to keep her company through the lonely nights.

* * *

She's stuffing her suitcase in when she sees him. Leaning towards the door frame, seemingly unfazed by the monstrous amount of clothes strewn he sees around the room. His lips are pursed, his hair nicely combed, and by the way he's dressed, she's sure he waiting to be dispatched for a mission because there's absolutely no way in hell that he will wear that suit on a daily basis. She meets his empty gaze for a short while and resumes focusing her attention in filling up her travel bag.

It's silent and torturous as he opts to just watch her from a distance, without any signs of movement. She feels the must to talk, to explain, to feel his warm voice resonate in ears, but she's scared of it. She's scared that once she opens up her mouth, she'll never be able to shut up and she'll end up saying too much.

"Ya leavin', Rox?" She ignores his almost-apathetic tone and gives him an equally nonchalant response. Unsatisfied with her cold attitude, he finally moves out of his static state and walks toward the bed. The metal beneath the mattress faintly creaks when he plops down next to her toiletries. He tilts his head to get a better view of her face, but she swiftly dodges it. After realizing the brashness of her action, she immediately makes up for it with a more sensible reply.

"For vacation," She clarifies, as she points to the small white tube beside him. "Pass me that toothpaste?" He grabs the item as he's told to do so but his hand stops and dangles in mid-air when she tries to reach for it from her sitting position on the ground. She lets a loud sigh of exasperation. "Come on, Eggs. I don't have time for this." She tries to sound frustrated and impatient but once she feels that radiant smile on his soft chuckle, any pretense of her being mad goes away with the wind. She shakes her head to get rid of the giggle bubbling inside of her.

"No, really, give me," stretches out her arms to actually to take the toothpaste from him. "That." She punctuates her sentence with a strong snatch from his right arm. "Alright, alright, you win." He surrenders and drops both hands on the bed. She allows the laughter to last for a few moments before accepting her imminent unwanted explanation. Once it dies out, she gets up from the floor and takes a seat next to him.

"How long?" He asks. _As if he genuinely cares_. She scoffs to herself while she stares blankly at nothingness. _Of course he does, dummy. You're friends._

 _Friends._

 _Only friends._

 _Fuck._

Snapping herself back to reality, she whispers to him. "Two months." He doesn't even look her in the eyes when he says "Oh." He says it like it's all the reaction she's going to get from him. A simple, thoughtless 'oh'.She wasn't even expecting for a sweet 'I'll miss you' or a dramatic "don't forget me' speech, but even as friends, she thinks she deserves something better than an indifferent 'oh'.

"For fuck's sake, Unwin," She growls at him wearily. He doesn't flinch at her tone or complain about her shout or anything. He's just there, sitting motionless, without a single care in the world. They stay uncommunicatively quiet for what seems like forever and she fumes up, wanting him to say something, anything. She even resorts to violently pushing him over the edge of the bed but what she gets is a simple head turn.

He stares at her. He stares and stares and breathes and stares. He knows that getting on her nerves for his rude unresponsiveness, but he's not entirely making an effort to please her too. He opens his mouth as to say finally say something, but he goes back to staring at her, without letting any word fall out. She's sick and tired of playing his dumb game and she's honestly so done with all the shit he does and she's ready to give up on talking to him altogeth— _Oh._

Her hands want to instinctively grab onto his bicep, but it gets trapped inside the small space between their bodies when he pulls her in to close the gap between them. She drinks in his scent, completely removed from any sense of coherency as his lips continue to make his mark on her. _This is what it feels like really kissing Eggsy,_ she thinks. With neither of them drowning in alcohol or fueled by adrenaline, he's soft and tender. Chaste but passionate. She can't help but notice the way his nose slightly pokes her cheeks when he kisses her deeper, tipping his head to another angle. She's afraid to hold him but she's almost more afraid not to. She memorizes every curve, every freckle, _everything_ , that there is to him. They stay like this, for minutes, for hours, who knows really? Her whole world is spinning faster than it ever has; she couldn't bring herself to care, until a startling voice blares through the intercom and breaks their lips apart, though not fully.

"Galahad, report for mission dispatch. Now." Merlin's stern, and even though they're both practically swimming in the sea of each other, it's clear that he means business.

 _But he's so close._ She couldn't possibly give a shit about it right now, though. His eyes pierce through hers and let silence take over all the things left unsaid. His forehead is pressed against hers and she feels his breath on her lips because he's _that_ close and she's terrified she might never want let go. Ever. She lets her heart beat as wild as it could for a few seconds before he speaks up.

"I'm gonna miss ya', Rox. Don't forget me, yeah?" He whimpers while stroking her delicate face.

And then he kisses her quick, bolts upright from his seat and disappears through the doors with her tears on the floor and her goodbye hanging onto her lips.

* * *

i'm so sorry this one was really done for almost a month but i kept changing a few bits here and there so yeah

anyway i'm so EXCITED for the golden circle

although i'm a bit worried if roxy will return i mean we don't have confirmation yet but it'll be a downer if she's not in it (and by downer i mean I'LL BE DEVASTATED)

i hope they bless us with more reggsy :)


	3. i know that there's limit to everything

HEYaaaAAaAaaaaa

ROXY'S OFFICIALLY BACK YO

I'M HAPPY MORE THAN I CAN ACTUALLY SAY REALLY

although we haven't seen her yet in set pictures, i'm just really happy she's back honestly

on an unrelated note, this story has hit 1200+ views oh my god that's so crazy thanks you guys

sorry for the long wait, i was consumed by marvel (and chris evans honestly if you don't think the man isn't attractive/talented/overall perfect we can't be friends seriously) so my attention was diverted

the last part took a toll on me and my abilities to channel roxy's conflicted feelings because of inexperience of certain things i kept going back and forth trying to fix that part i hope and i'm praying that i pulled that off

after much blabbering here it is chapter tres

* * *

iii.

 _i know that there's a limit to everything_

"Friends," She reads out loud with a sense of finality from her computer screen. The brightness of the gadget makes her eyes squint behind of her prescription glasses. It certainly doesn't help that she's been scrolling through this damned Google results page for the past two hours, with no luck of finding what she needed.

The fact is that she _is_ a smart woman. Anybody who knows her and will know her will never deny that. If you asked her about something, chances are, she probably has a shit ton of knowledge about it, with a 12–slide presentation to back it up. So ending up searching for the meaning of such an elementary word off a dodgy website in the middle of the night on vacation seems very… un-Roxy.

She straightens up from her acrobatic sitting position on the plush couch with wine in one hand and continues to recite. "Definition: a person attached to another by feelings of," She trails off the last few words of the sentences with a few taps on the mouse pad. "Affection or personal regard."

She closes her laptop with a force much more suited for kicking someone's ass.

* * *

 _I miss it._ She thinks to herself while fixing her hair for tonight's supposed stress-relieving plan (see also: getting absolutely hammered). Although admittedly, drinking doesn't change her perspective about the whole sudden vacation thing, it does however, help her fall asleep when she can't stop thinking about what she left back at 'home', if you could call it that.

Three and half weeks deep into her vacation and she's already longing feeling of adrenaline rapidly rushing through her veins. She craves the feeling of dreading all the paperwork after one clusterfuck of a mission. Hell, she even yearns for the smell of the misted carpet in the old tailor shop. It takes a certain kind of insanity for someone to want to remember the aroma of that nasty piece of cloth. Honestly, she's convinced that she's past that level of crazy because that's just how much she misses Kingsman. And to completely erase Kingsman on her mind is definitely going to take more than ten tequila shots.

She's actually impressed that she managed to stay in this tropical island for a couple of weeks and not aggressively book a ticket back to London. She didn't think that she had the willpower to be in this place for longer than a minute, especially with the kind of goodbye Eggsy gave her.

He left hurriedly and the last time they saw each other, she held her pride and didn't ask him where was exactly going and that led to her having no idea with what he was up to. Not asking about him is a mistake she didn't want to do, so she requested for his whereabouts from Merlin before she left. Even if it earns her an awful nickname from her boss.

At this point, he's probably finished with his Vienna assignment and headed for vacation too. At least that was what Merlin told her on of his weekly checkups. He hasn't called or anything, not that he needs to, but surely, he must have a little bit of time to spare to fill her in with his actions. What he meant with that kiss, she didn't know and it's driving her nuts.

"You know what, I'm over it." She groans with her hands thrown over her head with a sense of finality. She's done being so consumed about someone that doesn't make an effort to even give a shit about her. "I am going out, I will have fun, and I will find someone gorgeous to shag tonight, damn it." She convinces herself as she glances at the mirror one last time before she walks out of the bathroom.

* * *

It's loud. Not just your-neighbor's-shitty-stereo loud, it's feel-it-ringing-in-your-bones type of loud. Also, it's crowded. She half-expected the club to be packed, but tonight feels significantly congested. And no matter how hard she tries, she really can't pretend that the idea of dancing with a drunken, uncoordinated tosser looks appealing to her. That and she looks completely out of place with her seeming overly conservative mini-dress compared to the skimpy, small pieces of cloth latching onto everyone else's skin.

She orders her fifth when she realizes that this whole night out thing may be a bust and contemplates going back to the hotel before falling arse over tit and spilling her drink on someone. She stutters her apology with beet-red cheeks, grabs the nearest towel from the bar to try and dry this person's clothes and she's already starting to plan how to apologize even more until the white-shirted guy takes her hand into his and chuckles "Chill."

"I-I'm sorry." She laughs through the awkward staring and surprising though not unwanted sudden physical interaction. He's all dressed up, James Dean-ish with the jacket and all that, and okay, she'll admit, very good looking. The kind of guy you want to impress. Definitely not the kind you want to meet through sliding down the floor and splashing tequila on their garment. He shakes her hand and smoothly plants a peck on her fingers.

"Nick." He looks up with deep emerald eyes that you could get lost in and _jesus_ _he's so dreamy_. She knows she's been staring too much because he scans her like she's been drooling and there's a teasing smile that's forming on the corners of his lips that makes her chest tighten and explode at the same time.

Cliché, but he, or Nick, or whatever the hell his name is, is making her feel the teenage butterflies flutter in her stomach. Hell, this whole scenario is screaming 'shitty romantic comedy movie' that she wouldn't watch for more than ten minutes even if she was paid to. But if this hunk of a man right here is going to play the starring role in her very own cheesy story, well, _sign me the fuck up_ , she decides.

She shakes her head and replies firmly with confidence, "I'm Roxanne."

* * *

Nick is nice, she figures. Not a fuckboy but not entirely a saint. He's on vacation too, with his colleagues from the car company he works for. He's funny and smooth and rough at all the right edges. Which makes him a decent choice for a potential one-night man.

She's done this before. The flirting thing. She takes pride in being an incredibly smooth tease, but there's something about him that makes her feel like seventeen again; gangly and painfully awkward. In a good way though. Because he's all gentleness, she makes him blush a few times too and he makes the same lame jokes that make her laugh.

They're talking, and then drinking, and talking again. Which, by the course of the night, turned to seductive whispering, and light touching, indiscreet ear-biting and god knows what. It's a blur of lights and alcohol.

Next thing she knows they're making out aggressively in the back of the club. It's not that she doesn't enjoy it, even though she's not usually the one to give in so fast, because fucking hell, he kisses _great_ , but she stupidly thinks of how Eggsy kissed her that day she left and now she can't keep her focus on this guy that's pushing her up against the wall in this alley right here.

 _Great, now I'm thinking about him._ She tries to refocus but she can't help imagining that it was him, that heartless bastard who won't even drop a call, right here, kissing her like tomorrow's the apocalypse. He nips at the skin above her collarbone and a breathless moan escapes her mouth before she could stop it.

Elated by her reaction, she feels him grin and he responds by sucking fervently at the god awful sensitive spot in her neck. He's doing wonderful things to her, it's making her head spin in bliss and she considers returning the favor if she wasn't so concerned about the guilt creeping inside her. Nick concentrates in giving her hickeys for a moment before grazing his lips against hers once again. She closes her eyes, in a last ditch effort to shake the thought of Eggsy away from her mind, but it just comes back in waves, stronger than the one that came before it.

 _It's bothering._ It shouldn't be, but it is.

What was hard about forgetting him anyway?

It should be easy. _Just forget him._ Forget the way his face lights up when she comes back from a tough call, or the way he snickers when she's being so stubborn about something that she will not hear the end for weeks. Forget how his eyes twinkle in the back of the car, his tea preferences, and his melodramatic, exaggerated stories about his usual escapades.

But she can't, and it's so damn frustrating because even if it hurts so much, even if she wants to, and even if it kills her, she just can't.

What's more bothering is that she doesn't know why.

And then suddenly, all this thinking and feeling, it all made sense.

 _I love him._

 _Oh my fucking god, I do._

She doesn't know when she started zoning out, or even if she even knew how long she's been spaced, but Nick eventually stops when he notices her unresponsiveness, and he doesn't shove her or yell at her like a total douche, he untangles himself from her carefully and keeps her in his arms.

"What's wrong?" He asks with the kind of earnestness that makes her feel bad for him because he's a decent lad that deserves better than to be dragged into this mess she feels inside. He deserves so much more than being a distraction and a one-night stand.

"I-I can't do this, I'm sorry," she stutters, avoiding his prying gaze. She turns her head to the side to regain her composure, but she looks at him without the straight face she intends to use on him. Choking her words out, she comes clean.

"I have a friend back home."


End file.
